Page 16 of Beast’s Surrender, Beauty’s Revenge

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ALMAS

I had no idea where we were going.

My father was exhausted, not strong and vital as Percival had been when I’d brought him out of the tower, preserved by his strange magic, but weary and hunched and hungry. They’d not taken good care of him in the dungeon, and I hated them for it, but I didn’t feel the need to return and shout and exact my revenge on them all.

I just wanted away—all of us, away.

My father would find a place to create and—and maybe I would try at cobbling again, or maybe I would do something else altogether.

Whatever came next, I would not shrink and make myself small out of fear. Perhaps I’d convince Percival to teach me the sword, and we’d fight back the worst of Bellara together.

But really, I didn’t think I wanted that. Sure, I wouldn’t mind picking up a sword and figuring out what to do with it. I definitely wouldn’t mind sparring with Percival, for proximity’s sake alone. An excuse to grapple with him, maybe even impress him as we went? No, I didn’t mind that at all.

I just didn’t think I wanted a life of danger and violence. Something simpler would suit me just fine, and I hoped he’d enjoy the reprieve as well. Though I imagined his life in the tower had been simple enough, one lived in the summer sun would be better.

So we rode out of the village with a sack of gold that I hadn’t yet worked my way around to fully comprehending. It was more wealth than my father had earned in his whole life, just there in one bag, collected for us to start a new life.

We rode in the opposite direction of the Black Forest until twilight spread overhead, and then we saw the flickering of candles in the distance, the twist of smoke through the purple-pink sky.

We turned toward town and stopped at the first tavern we found. By the time we dismounted, I was half convinced my father was just going to fall out of his saddle, but he caught himself and staggered inside.

While they got settled, I left the coins with Percival to protect. Strangely, I trusted him with the whole amount, not thinking for a second that he would abandon us with nothing. No, what struck me as strange was that I was of the opinion that most people would.

We only needed a few things, but I didn’t want to be without supplies, forced to steal, ever again. For once, I could see us all taken care of, and I’d never—gods, I’d never been so relaxed as I was when I realized there was nothing I had to scrape or beg for. I could afford all of it. We were safe.

I came back with packs for each of us, better stocked with clothes to change into and all the things we’d need for a few days on the road, and by then, it was time to eat.

When we ate the stew and bread the tavern provided for supper, none of us spoke. Not one among us had had a decent meal in over a week, and we ate heartily, a warmth working through my limbs.

It was over. I was free.

It was even easier to breathe, knowing that Uther was dead.

I sat on the bench beside Percival, my knee pressed against his while my father, bright-eyed and curious, asked him all sorts of questions. A good meal seemed to have cleared his mind. His queries weren’t just about the old stories, his heroics, but also about the tools his people had used before Bellara was founded.

Percival was kind, but even stranger, he seemed keen to talk agriculture and was excited by the trinkets my father described. My heart sang to watch them get on, and it was so blessedly normal that it was hard to go up to bed, even long after the sun set.

My father and I were sharing one room, which wasn’t so different from the small cabin I’d grown up in. I felt a pang to remember it destroyed.

Percival was in another room alone.

After so long at his side, I couldn’t stand it. Even after I’d seen my father tucked comfortably in bed, was assured that he wasn’t hurt beyond mere exhaustion, I kept glancing toward the door. I wanted?—

“You should go talk to him,” my father said knowingly, patting the blanket over his waist. “I’m too tired to be good company tonight, but we’ll catch up over breakfast and you can tell me how you found the Percival. That sounds like a tale I’d love to hear.”

I bit my lip. “Are you sure?”

He waved me off. “Go. Be young and foolish. Gods know you’ve gotten little enough chance.”

There was something sad in his eyes then, but that was for later. It would take time before all my anger disappeared. We’d all heal though; it’d just take a while.

I slipped out of my father’s room and knocked on Percival’s door. When he opened it, he was?—

My eyes fell to his chest. It was bare, his shirt discarded somewhere, presumably so he could wash his hair, which hung damp and dark around his shoulders.

My mouth went dry, and I couldn’t help simply staring at him. It was a luxury I’d barely allowed myself to indulge in before, at least without flinching back from what it meant.

Now, I didn’t feel the need to hold myself apart.

“Are you all right, Almas?” I looked up to find his head tipped to one side, an easy smile playing across his face.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Very. Very all right. May I come in?”

“Of course.” He stepped back, and I slipped into his room, shutting the door behind me and leaning back against it.

I only just stopped myself from looking him over again. The last thing I wanted to do was return his help with unwanted attention, and in truth, should he never want anything more from me than friendship, that alone would be a gift. He had saved me, and he was a good man. I required no more of him than decency, and I wanted to be by his side either way.

But if there was a chance for something more? Well, I wanted to explore it.

“We didn’t talk about it, before I kissed you. In the moment, it seemed the best way to reach you, but I wonder—could we talk about it now?”

Percival hummed his ascent, and I took a half step toward him.

“Would you like to do it again?” I asked, my heart in my throat.

When Percival scowled, a sudden fear stabbed through me. I didn’t want him to say there was nothing between us, no chance for more, even if it would not change my valuation of him.

But when he met my gaze, I couldn’t put a name to the feelings in his eyes. Only, it didn’t look like a rejection.

“What do you want, Almas?”

“Oh—” The tiny sound punched out of me. Was that all it was? Percival wanted to be sure that he wasn’t pressuring me, that I thought first of myself.

The warm spark in my chest began to spread as I grinned at him.

“I want you,” I said. “I want to be close to you, to kiss you again, to feel your hands on my skin. You make me feel safe, like I could build something with you—something good and whole and worthwhile. I want to act without thinking, without worry about what I should be doing or what I owe anyone else. I want to be seen and I—I’d like it best to see you in turn. I just... want you.”

Percival’s mouth had gone soft, just a small hiss of air escaping the tiny part in his lips.

Then, he was on me, his arms around me as he pulled me into him, drawing me onto my toes as I looped my arms around his neck. This time, when he kissed me, I opened for him, and his tongue slipped inside.

Heat and a twisting tightness flowed through my body. My breath hitched as we parted.

“Can I stay?” I whispered.

Percival’s response came out like a growl. “Never leave.”

We kissed, fumbling as we made our way to the tavern’s lumpy bed. But gods, was it better than sleeping on the ground.

Percival pulled my shirt off, and I reached for his trousers. “All right?” I rasped against his mouth.

“Yes,” he promised, but a moment later, his hand closed on my shoulder and he held me back. “I will tell you if I want you to stop, and you need only say no and this ends.”

Gods, that assurance shouldn’t be half as sexy as it was, but the sharp awareness that stopping was the last thing I wanted crashed over me just at his offer. I whimpered, dropping onto the bed and pulling him with me.

From the bed, it was an awkward shuffle to shed the rest of our clothes, but we managed, leaving them piled on the floor right at the bed’s end.

We kissed for what felt like hours, just touching, enjoying the rush of blood that followed trailing fingers and hungry lips. But kissing wasn’t all that I’d wanted, and while I was out, I’d made a purchase just for myself. Well, myself, and I’d hoped, Percival.

When I pulled the vial of oil from my pocket and the glint of candlelight caught on the glass, Percival groaned. He rolled his hips, pressing me down into the bed before he fell to the side. His hand on my hip pulled me over with him, and we kissed again, his arm cushioning my head.

“What is your preference?” he asked breathily, his thumb tracing circles over my hipbone in a way that made me squirm, my cock trapped hard and straight between us.

“My preference?” I echoed, dazed and arching toward his hips, eager to press myself against him.

“Would you like to be inside me, or for me to be in you?”

“Oh.” How was it that this man, ancient and powerful as he was, could bring me up short time and again? No other man I’d slept with had asked. They’d each assumed, because I was pretty, and often smaller, that there was only one thing I wanted—or perhaps their eyes had found me because there was only one thing they wanted.

“Do you... have a preference?” I asked, ducking my head.

Percival laughed, and the sound was loud and unabashed and I loved it.

He shook his head. “No, Almas. Tonight, in any arrangement, I am yours. Tomorrow, we may try a different one. Beyond tomorrow? I cannot wait to find out.”

I made a sharp sound, unable to keep from kissing him again. It was long and sloppy, my lips slick with spit and the glorious sweep of his tongue. All the while, I looped my leg over his hip and pulled him close.

With a huff, I rolled him onto his back and straddled his hips. “You in me.” I rocked against him, delighting in the feel of his hands gripping my hips hard. He wanted me, and I thrilled with the uncomplicated truth of it.

“Prepare me?”

The rumble I got in response made my hair stand on end. Percival was so very careful, warming the oil between his fingers before ever touching my skin, circling his finger around and around until my skin felt molten and soft. When he sank inside, I whined, pressing back into his touch.

With my hands braced on his shoulders, I stretched to kiss him, caught between the dual pleasure of his lips and his clever fingers.

“So gorgeous,” he whispered, dragging his lips from my mouth to my cheek, across my neck.

I whined, unable to voice how good it was to feel beautiful and not ashamed of it, to let someone close to me knowing that they’d never hurt me.

It was hard not to sink into the feeling, to hang in that space and spend the whole night just touching and being touched and going no further, but deep down, I wanted more. I wanted to have this without reservation, to know that I could take what felt good and wake to another morning where Percival was still with me and no one was dogging my footsteps and everything would be fine.

It was just sex—wonderful and fun and messy and perfect, but not the kind of world-shattering thing that a dead man had turned it into.

I could take it back.

So I drew Percival’s hand away from me and palmed oil over his cock, holding him steady as I sank down on his dick. Gods, it’d been so long—much longer for him, I realized with a burst of laughter entirely inappropriate for the moment.

Beneath me, breathless, Percival raised his brows in question, but I shook my head. “I’m just happy. Happy to have this. Have you.”

His breath caught and he nodded too. Miraculously, I also made him happy.

That thought spurred me to start moving, rocking my hips, lifting up with the help of Percival’s hands on my hips and falling back down. My cock bobbed as I moved, dripping tantalizingly onto his lower belly.

Gods, we were a mess. No grace to us at all, just thrusting and kissing and the frustrated hiss I made when it was too hard to kiss him and fuck him at once—the same hiss that drew a grin out of him and had him pushing to sit up, angling closer so I could have all that I wanted.

My body pressed to his, his thrusts short and deep and?—

“Shit,” I hissed as he reached between us, gripping my cock so that when I moved, there was just enough friction. He hardly moved his hand, but expertly flicked his thumb across my leaking tip.

I clinched around him, arching my back to give him more space to move and then—oh, and then the world narrowed to a single point and blew up all at once, pulsing from my dick in his hand, my ass flexing around him with each blissful spasm.

Out of breath, panting, I clung onto him as he moved my hips. I used the leverage of my heels pressing into the small of his back to follow the movements.

And when he buried his teeth against my shoulder to muffle his shattered moan, when his body shook with pleasure beneath mine, I grinned and pressed a kiss against his damp hair, because this was perfect, and it was all mine.